


Once We Were Something

by Morning66



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66
Summary: Ten years down the line, when the pain has faded, Julie doesn’t regret what happened between her and Ben.
Relationships: Ben Tennyson/Julie Yamamoto
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Once We Were Something

The thing is, for all his faults, Ben was never intentionally cruel.

Julie realizes this now. He might have been immature and insensitive and sometimes even mean, but he never meant to be. He never meant to hurt her, even though he did, even though he left a jagged hole in her heart that will never truly heal.

But Julie was cruel, she knows now. Maybe not during their relationship, but afterwards with Hervé. She didn't realize it at the time, wounds too fresh, feelings too crushed, to internalize anything but hurt. Now, though, over ten years later, the feelings have faded, the jagged cut has scarred, leaving an almost imperceptible mark, and she understands. Understands that leaving Ben without even thinking of telling him was wrong, that she should have spoken to him before becoming entangled with Hervé.

Julie's twenty-eight now, still young in theory, but she already feels old. Those days seem millennia ago, stories from a past life, or maybe from someone else's.

She's twenty-eight and her life is nothing like what she expected as a child, dreaming of Prince Charming in a beautiful castle. Nothing like what she expected as a teen, a tennis prodigy traveling the world over, dreaming of wins and titles and fame.

She blew her knee six years ago, a damning injury for a tennis player. It was jarring and painful, but not as much as the end of her professional career. Now, she coaches at the local rec-center, training young kids to dream of greatness, and praying at night that they'll go farther than she did, that their careers won't get cut so short.

She's a single mother to a five year old boy, a momentous task in and of itself. They live off a combination of her salary and the alimony Hervé pays mostly, but not always on time. It's tough and she goes to bed almost as dead tired as when she spent her days training, but her life is fulfilling in a way it never was before.

Looking back at the last several years, she can recognize with the clarity of hindsight that she's made mistakes more times than not. Hervé was a mistake, a mistake made in a fit of hurt and passion and anger. A mistake that lasted for years afterwards, stretching like taffy long past it's expiration date, but she can't bring herself to regret it, not with her baby boy, her Timmy, coming out of it.

She doesn't regret Ben either, no matter how much it hurt at the time.

It never would have worked out between them in the long term, no matter what happened, even if she hadn't called that day, even if Ben had turned off the game, paid attention to her, responded to her questions. She realizes that now, many years too late to make a difference.

They were both too young, too stubborn, and too immature to make it work. They were barely more than children, with the weight of two very different worlds on their respective shoulders. He carried the weight of the universe, the lives of many he'd never meet, obligation clinging to him like the watch to his wrist. She, the hopes and dreams of her coaches and peers and family and country, the pressure to succeed covering her like sweat after a match.

At the time, she had blamed it all on Ben. On his immaturity, on his insensitivity. She'd been so mad at him then. Now though, she realizes that it was her fault as much as his.

Sure, he was immature. He always had been. Was it really his fault though? He had been only a child when the universe had stolen him, hijacked his youth to create a hero. That kind of childhood messes you up, she thinks. Freezes parts of you in place and lets others grow like weeds, so that you're some combination of too grown up and too immature all at the same time.

She hadn't been particularly mature either, though. Had been too young to comprehend what having a boyfriend whose job was to save the universe would really mean. She hadn't had the perspective to truly understand the ramifications of his career and the importance of it and he hadn't had the words to tell her.

Now, years down the line, the pain has faded, to an occasional ache every now and again. It was fun while it lasted, she thinks, but it never would have lasted forever. She doesn't think of it much anymore, only once in a while when she and Timmy are playing with Ship, or she sees Ben on TV, receiving an award or saving the day.

Once that was her world, she thinks. Once she would have been behind the scenes, comforting Ben after a hard day, kissing him on the cheek as he pressed a bag of frozen peas to his eye.

This is her world now. Timmy and the classes she teaches. It's not exciting, it's not what she ever expected, but it's nice in its own way.

Ironically, Timmy's going through an alien phase now, which brings back a million memories.

"Mommy," he whispers, as she tucks him in one night. "Is Ship an alien?"

His eyes are as wide as flying saucers and he's so innocent. He doesn't yet know that aliens and superheroes aren't always black and white, that the good guys don't always win. That sometimes when the good guys do win it's at costs so high they almost wish they hadn't.

Julie leans in, presses her lips to his cheek. He smells like soap and children's shampoo, clean from his nightly bath.

She nods.

"Yes, he is, baby. He's a good alien, a good boy," she responds, stroking Ship.

"Wow!" He says, his voice filled with wonder. "Mommy, how'd you get him?"

She smiles at his amazement. She wonders how he would react if she told him the whole story, told him that his old mom used to date the Ben Tennyson, used to be part of that world.

"A friend gave him to me," she finally responds, smile still in place. "Now sleep tight, Timmy. I love you!"

"Night, mommy. Love you too," he responds as she closes the door.

She leans against the cool wood of the door once she has closed it, smiling. She loves her son so much, more than Ship, or tennis, or Ben or Hervé. She would live through all the hurt, all the pain, a thousand times over if it meant having him with her.

As she walks back to the kitchen she thinks about his upcoming birthday in two weeks time. Maybe she'll call Ben and see if he can come. It would blow Timmy's mind.

They don't talk much anymore and she misses him. It's not the deep, bone-aching, heart breaking way she missed him when she was fifteen and he was off saving the world. It's a soft thrum, a quiet buzzing, the same way she misses her parents when she hasn't called them in a few weeks, the way she misses old teammates and rivals she hasn't seen since she's been off the circuit.

It's been years, but she still remembers her promise to him, sixteen and still so hurt, standing on his lawn. They're still friends even if they're not what they used to be, even if she's no longer a tennis pro, and he's off Earth more time than not.

Yes, maybe she'll call Ben. It would be nice to talk to him.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn’t really like them together that much, at least not long-term, but they deserved a lot better than what they got.


End file.
